I have been away from "home" for eight weeks. If you noticed, I have the word home in parenthesis. Eastchester stopped feeling like home a long time ago. Somewhere around 1985, when I first moved there. I've never tried very hard to leave, because it's always been easier to stay. Easier, because I know what it's like to say goodbye and not realize it's for good. It's been easier to stay, because I had nowhere else to go. Every single chance I've had, I've taken to leave that place and every time I return, there is a little piece of me that is truly ripped from inside. It's an exhausting process.
Sure, I have people I consider good friends, but as I've found out, for the better part of a decade, they are a busy crew. I'm not one to beg someone for friendship, because to me, it's a two-way street that must be met 50/50. It is based on honesty, trust and the ability to always be open. Even with some of my closest friends, I've lost that. I wish I could stare into the mirror and yell at myself for this, but I can't. Things come up, people change and for good or for worse, I've stayed the same person. I refuse to be someone I'm not for someone else's benefit. I feel, even when I try, it truly depresses me.
So for eight weeks, I've lounged around Ithaca. Leaving the house, less than four times. I'm content sitting on the porch, the deck or laying in bed. Sitting at the table for long meals and longer talks. This is something I miss out on at home. Conversations surround me about some show I don't want, some song I don't know and biased references to teams I can't stand. Even at home, aside from three places, I am home almost always.
For eight weeks, I've wondered maybe twice what I'm missing out on. I miss a handful of people and even that is being generous. I genuinely miss three people and one doesn't even live near me, but often comes down to visit. Despite my confrontational personality, I doubt I'll even post this to Facebook. The off chance, someones vanity is hurt, when they believe I am speaking of them, when I am not. Here's the best about this silly blog. I used to have about 30-40 people who told me they read it all the time. How funny is it the reasons I've heard as to why they stopped. All reasons that friends would normally come to your side, are the reasons they stopped paying attention, reading, listening.
Eight weeks away. Who will notice when it's nine, ten or forever?
Sure, I have people I consider good friends, but as I've found out, for the better part of a decade, they are a busy crew. I'm not one to beg someone for friendship, because to me, it's a two-way street that must be met 50/50. It is based on honesty, trust and the ability to always be open. Even with some of my closest friends, I've lost that. I wish I could stare into the mirror and yell at myself for this, but I can't. Things come up, people change and for good or for worse, I've stayed the same person. I refuse to be someone I'm not for someone else's benefit. I feel, even when I try, it truly depresses me.
So for eight weeks, I've lounged around Ithaca. Leaving the house, less than four times. I'm content sitting on the porch, the deck or laying in bed. Sitting at the table for long meals and longer talks. This is something I miss out on at home. Conversations surround me about some show I don't want, some song I don't know and biased references to teams I can't stand. Even at home, aside from three places, I am home almost always.
For eight weeks, I've wondered maybe twice what I'm missing out on. I miss a handful of people and even that is being generous. I genuinely miss three people and one doesn't even live near me, but often comes down to visit. Despite my confrontational personality, I doubt I'll even post this to Facebook. The off chance, someones vanity is hurt, when they believe I am speaking of them, when I am not. Here's the best about this silly blog. I used to have about 30-40 people who told me they read it all the time. How funny is it the reasons I've heard as to why they stopped. All reasons that friends would normally come to your side, are the reasons they stopped paying attention, reading, listening.
Eight weeks away. Who will notice when it's nine, ten or forever?
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